


How Can We Breathe?

by ishre_yann



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Amputation, Bucky Barnes Returns, Bucky Barnes-centric, Drugs, Epilepsy, Gen, Medical Trauma, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Steve Rogers, POV Third Person, Past Torture, Past Violence, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Psychosis, Trauma, shifting pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 02:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3673743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishre_yann/pseuds/ishre_yann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky still doesn't know why he gave Steve a chance to see him. But he did and Steve is not willing to give up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>"This -all of this- was new, unknown. Foreign. When he was finished, he opened the door and, without even looking back, he exited the bathroom and walked right through the apartment. The place wasn’t that huge, but it had something warm in how it was designed that Bucky couldn’t understand. It was different from the sensation he’d always felt inside headquarters. The light, the furniture. It was a home. A place to live in. Not some cold, detached laboratory room, full of metal and yellow lights. Bucky almost felt wrong. He wasn’t used to this environment and he knew it. He wasn’t able to recognize this as something natural. Natural was HYDRA, natural was a cryostasis machine, the cold, the flashing pain his brain washing machine always gave him, the silence, the echoes of footsteps in the corridors, the metal grills. This.. Well, this was another story."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	How Can We Breathe?

**Author's Note:**

> Hallo, this is my first work in English and, as soon as this is not my mothertongue, I can't assure you this will always be grammatically correct. I'm not sure how the story will end, neither if there will be an actual love story between Bucky and Steve. Let's just say that I'm following them, not the other way :>  
> If you find something, some mistakes and you have the time to correct them, I'd be grateful, because I can correct myself a little bit -since I'm not English, again ç.ç- and if someone is so kind and wants to help me, I'd really be glad to have a co-author (or whatever you'll want).  
> So yeah, have a nice reading! <3

_In the darkness before the dawn_  
_In the swirling of this storm_  
_When I'm rolling with the punches_  
_And hope is gone_  
_Leave a light, a light on_  
[Coldplay - Midnight]

 

 

He knew he shouldn’t have been waiting outside the door. Especially  that  door. There were two things he could possibly do -now that the bell has already rang. First, he could turn and walk away; second, he could stay there and just wait for the door to open -and face everything which would come with that. He wasn't a hero, he wasn't the kind of person who waits for anyone; and still, he’d have waited for him. Still, he wanted to wait this time. Because there was no point in turning over and just - escape -run.  Where are all those good purposes now? , he asked himself.

What was the purpose though? He’s decided to send an e-mail to Steve. He didn’t know if the Captain would’ve received it, but still he tried.

 

_ Don’t read, if you don’t mind. _

_ I think you know well who I am so I’m not putting on unnecessary introductions. _

_ I wanna meet you. Somewhere private. And don’t you dare tell your friends something about this._

_ I won’t harm you but I don’t want either to be harmed.  
_

_ There’ll be a number at the end of the mail. You have ten days to decide what to do from now on. _

 

And then he’s sent the e-mail from the internet point.

The answer was fast enough to start the countdown to that day.

Seconds passed away, before the door gave off an electronic sound. Bucky looked right beyond the glasses of the door when the lights were turned on, enlightening the hallway. He pressed his hand -his right hand, the  _normal_  one- to the door to open it and walk in.

The building was new, well kept as he approached the stairs, never stopping to look around in every dark corner he could possibly find.

He took the stairs, slowly. His breath was steady but his mind seemed to be shaken by a hurricane. It was a familiar feeling since the attack to the Triskelion. A constant feeling that followed him wherever he’d go. So, after six flights of stairs, he finally reached the floor in which Steve lived. The wooden door was left open, a small, vertical opening that allowed the light to come out and enlighten a little part of the hallway.

Bucky remained still for those which seemed minutes, until a shadow passed beyond the door, a glare of golden hair. In that moment Bucky swallowed quietly and moved some steps forward. His face was unconsciously twisted in awe and doubt, while his left hand grabbed the gun -a Desert Eagle he’d stolen from a too curious hooligan. And he walked in, opening the door -body ready to react to whatever threat could come to him.

A thrill along the spine. Captain America -or better,  _Steven Rogers_ \- was about to sit down on his couch. His face -a disappointed grimace- was pointed to the floor, before he realized the intrusion. But then-

Then Steve looked right at him, light changing the reflection in his eyes. He kept staring and staring, his mouth fell open and he suddenly got up.

 – Bucky. – Steve said, a strange feeling on his face Bucky couldn’t recognize.

Bucky remained still, the gun ready to fire. He aimed Steve, quietly, making Steve himself realize what Bucky was holding.

 – There’s no one, I promise. – Steve continued, hands half up in the air. – Wanna check out? – 

 – Shut up. – Bucky interrupted, his voice cold, unstressed. – It’s not going to take that long. – he didn’t want it to take long. All he wanted were a few answers, so that he could head away alone on his own.

 – Bucky, pl – 

 – Stop calling me that. – Bucky felt his voice cold filled with anger. Bucky’s head wouldn’t stop spinning and hurting every time Steve used that name. It brought with him sensations too familiar and the threat -a sincere threat- that one day he would have remembered everything.

 – What do you want me to call you, then? – 

Bucky kept his forced face still, even if he couldn’t avoid to frown.

 – I just want to help you, Buck. – 

 – I said  _shut up_ _._ – 

Bucky didn’t want this. He did not want to be somebody.  _Then why are you even trying to talk to him?_

He knew it would have ended up this way. Steve trying to convince him of his identity and Bucky.. well, Bucky would just be dragged by the flow of blurred memories everyday more clear, even if not completely.

 – Please. Put the gun down and.. Dunno, what do you want? – 

 – Answers. – 

It was strange to give orders even if he hadn’t a target. What was the target now? Find this unknown “Bucky” Steve kept talking about? Try to find another self? A new beginning?

 – Then ask me. – 

Bucky took a deep breath. His face was already a little bit twisted in bother. But still, he forced himself to remain still and calm. – I want to know if someone is chasing me, apart from you. – 

Bucky’d figured out a few names that could’ve been chasing him since his last and only failed mission. It was strange to have it right in front of him and do not have orders to follow about it. Steve, moreover, didn’t seem to be mad or hostile towards Bucky.  _That_ was another strange thing to see before him.

Steve kept staring at him. It was annoying, but Bucky didn’t point that out. He kept waiting for an answer, instead.

 – No one. – Steve said. – Only me and my friend, Sam, who wants to help me out. – 

Bucky frowned. – If you’re telling me bullshit I will – 

 – I’m no telling you bullshit, Bucky. I wouldn’t, I promise. –  _again_ that name. That awful name. He didn’t want to feel awkward listening to a single,  _stupid_ name. And still there he was going to feel uncomfortable again.

 – Can I ask you something? – Steve intervened, abruptly. Bucky’s thoughts froze all of sudden, but nothing but silence came out from the Winter Soldier. He just stared at Steve, never stopped frowning.

 – Why did you come to me? –

That was a tough one.

 – ‘Cause you can provide me informations. – that was it. He was just using that weak spot Steve showed him. – And you’re not going to kill me. – it was a gamble but that was all he have had until now.

Steve didn’t respond. He just stayed still, looking right at Bucky, blue eyes meeting their gazes.

 – So that’s it? – Steve said. – You didn’t remember anything? – there was something in his voice, his tone that made Bucky’s heart shrink a little bit. He forced himself to ignore the sensation and follow the plan.

 – Nothing. – it was half true, half lie. – Stop caring ‘bout that. – 

 – The thing is.. I can’t just  _stop_ caring about you, Buck. –  _low._ – I mean, okay, you’re not the same guy I’ve known anymore, I got it. But I still care about you. You can’t – Steve stopped, smiled.. a bitter smile painting on his face. Then, he kept talking. – You would imagine how it is to feel lonely for years and then discover that not everything is lost and dead. – there was something strange in his gaze. The way Steve looked at him was sort of hurting Bucky in the first place.

Bucky swallowed. – I know what that means, I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through all these years I’ve been frozen.. But still, I can’t not be a little bit happy knowing that I still have  _you_. – Steve took a deep breath. – Everyone is dead or almost dying, at this point.  _Peggy_ is dying. – a small spark glowed in Bucky’s mind. A trace. It vanished almost right away. But Bucky noticed and he couldn't not feel anger for noticing that. – Can't you just stay? – Steve interrupted his stream of thoughts.  _To stay?_ That was uncomfortable. He did not come here to change his mind. He did come here for.. something. Something like what? Another name? A past? _A_ _ future? _What kind of future would it be, lost and alone? He did not belong to this century. Neither did Steve. But..

– If I stay – Bucky began. – What are you going to do with me? – it was simply what they told him to be. How they wanted him to be. An automa.

Steve suffocated a groan. – I'm not gonna  _do_ anything with you. You're no captive and I'm no jailer. – he explained, and Bucky couldn't stop from frowning. – You'd have a home. Maybe I can help you.. You know, remembering. I mean, if  you  _want_ to. –

That.. That was unusual. He wasn't simply used to just want, decide and all those autonomous stuff. He wasn't  _scheduled_ to be like this. Steve was giving him a freedom he was not used to. And it scared the hell out of Bucky.

– I'm -I'm not sure this is a good idea. – Bucky took two steps behind retreating. But then he stopped when Steve jumped right on his feet, hands up, palms towards him.

– Bucky. Please wait. I didn't mean.. It has not to be a decision now. You don't have to do anything you don't want to, okay? Just.. Please Bucky.  _Please_. I can't let you leave without even trying. I can't just lose you again. – and there were..  _tears?_ In those eyes. In those blue ones.  _He never cries._

                                                                                        _. . . . . ._

Bucky's breath froze. His heart began to speed up. He could feel the beatings under his skin, inside his head, at his temples. It was annoying. He made his head spin and spin and spin till he tried to reach something - _ everything he could find _ \- with his left arm.

 – Bucky?! –

Steve's voice was far away. And he couldn't stop breathing -short, fast, broken breaths. His head was heavy. He didn't know what was happening but he realized his own voice panting a – Steve. – weak, scared.  _Horrible_. He felt suddenly miserable. Was  _that_ his voice? He hated it. The way it let out all the need he was hiding and trying to ignore. That was just  _not fair_.

It didn't stop the chaos, though. And he lost the track of time, closing his eyes, letting himself fall down -but not hurting. He fell on something warm, gentle. It helped him resting down, but never let him go. – I'm here Buck. I'm here. –

_ Steve . _

 – Breath, Buck. Breath. – and Bucky focused on breathing, yes. That was at least a little bit helpful. – Buck? Can you hear me? – he listened to Steve voice and he weakly nodded. – Oh Gosh. Okay. Okay. It's going to be okay, alright? Do you hear me? I've got you. I'm here. You're safe. –

Bucky didn’t say nothing. He just stayed quiet, while his head kept spinning. They stayed like that -Steve’s arms wrapped around Bucky’s torso, leaning the soldier back on his chest- for Bucky didn’t even remember how long. But it was long enough to make his legs tingle. 

Being touched wasn’t a big deal, at least not always. It depended on how tired his mind was. There were times where he was calm and still, and times where he just couldn’t take it.

Steve’s voice was even, calm. It helped a little bit Bucky to calm down. After a few minutes, his breath was more even, his mind was a chaotic heap of undetermined images, thoughts and sounds. Hyperventilation. His first reaction was:  _this is not happening. It can't be happening_ _._ The second one was:  _whose fault was this?_ And then again.  _Steve. Steve's. It's Steve's fault_ _._ But could he really blame it on Steve? His mind was an opaque, cracked glass. Soon or after, it wouldn't have take long. Eventually, it would've completely cracked in a thousands pieces. That was his sensation. Too much pressures from too much points. Not only physical but also psychological. The HYDRA rules, his own mind -he was discovering he did have a mind, indeed- and now even his past. A past that he didn't understand completely. Too complex. It was complicated.

He, the Winter Soldier, and this "Bucky" were the same person. He forgot where the switch line was. When his mind would've used a cold, rational thought and when it would've became too emotional or painful that he couldn't even stand it. He didn't remember being anything else except an experiment. He did not seek for approval, not for compassion neither he missed those things. He could not remember what was like to just  _feel_. And now.. Now this. All of this. Alien, foreign, strange sensations all together. All due to Steve.

 – What did you do? – he heard his voice asking.

Slowly, his mind brought back the sensation of Steve's hands on his hips.

He froze. He froze even before Steve could find an answer.

 – Don't touch me. – it was a threat.

 – Buck, Bucky you just.. –

Bucky reaction was fast. His metal elbow flashed right against Steve's solar plexus. When his grip loosened, Bucky stood up right, - _ escaping _ \- putting two, three meters between the two.

Steve was breathless, still on the floor. His face was twisted up in sorrow.

 – Bucky.  _Please_ _._ You need someone to just go to. I can.. I  _want_ to help you. Please, Buck. You saw it even now: I'm not gonna hurt you. – Steve's words were just dangerous. His training, the rational part was fighting against the unexpected emotional one. Where did that even come from? Did he just  _wish_ he could stay? Did he just  _hope_ those words were true? And, first of all, why was he even  _believing_ Steve? He knew the answer but he could just not accept it. Not without any logical explanation.

 – You know me. Or at least, you  _did_ long ago. I can't just let you go. –

 – What are you going to do then? Gonna stop me with what? – Bucky felt this awkward need to defend himself.  _From what, a praying man?_

 – I'm not gonna fight you. But I can follow you, look for you.  _I_ was already doing it right before the e-mail. I know what they did to you and there's something we can do about that. I will do everything that's possible to help you out. But you need to believe me. – he looked helpless. Steve was helpless. – Please Bucky. –

Bucky stayed still. Compromises. There they came again.

 – I'm not going to be caged. – he started. And when Steve was about to open his mouth, Bucky raised a hand to shut him up. – No hospitals, no police, no SHIELD,  _no one_ will know I'm here, no one. If I want to do something, I wanna be able to do it. – this was too improvised. – And I'm not gonna give to you my weapons. – Steve was staring, probably waiting for Bucky to stop his conditions. – And I want to know what you're going to do. Do  _not_ try to imprison me. I'm gonna fight you and everyone else is in my

way. – he wasn't so sure it would happen, but what else did he have? No other options and Steve was offering something he  _needed_. Not because he wanted, just because he was actually alone. – You get it? –

Steve's expression was.. strange. Unreadable. But Bucky was sure about something. Steve was relieved. He didn't know about what, exactly, but he was. Maybe these conditions weren't a problem to him? What was he expecting?

Then, he nodded. – Yeah. Sure. But it'll be difficult to let you go where you want. I mean.. – he lowered his gaze. – Your arm, I mean, you need something to hide it. And new clothes. You just can't live with those. –

Bucky frowned. He was confused. Really confused. He lowered too his gaze and met his clothing. What was wrong with those?

 – How long are you wearing those? –

_How long.._ – Don't know. –

 – You need a shower, Bucky. And new clothes. And to eat something. – he continued. Bucky wasn't quite sure why Steve was so okay with his conditions, but it could just be a stratagem to let him stay.

 – These are not priority right now. – Bucky said.

 – There are not.. Are you kidding me? – Steve was staring at him in confusion. – Bucky, okay, do you understand that you just  _can’t_ keep smelling like garbage and still demand to be able to do what you want outside this house? – that was a point, circa. – Let’s think about it. You don’t wanna draw the attention on you, do you? – funcional. The shower became suddenly something functional. It was necessary.

Bucky frowned, again.

 – And you? – Bucky said. – What would you be doing in the meantime? –

Steve stilled. He looked right back at Bucky’s gaze and sighed. – I’m going to make dinner, I guess. –

 – You guess? – 

 – Yeah, I’m hungry. Are you hungry? – 

Bucky stilled. Quietly, he started something really similar of a check-up. Hunger. That was really a foreign concept to him. Since he could remember, he was never fed because of hunger. It was not a physiologic need, it was necessary to allow him to continue the cryostasis and the training. He never asked for food. And even if he could ask for it, he shouldn't have. That was not allowed. Others have always made choices for him. He's never been owner of his own life. 

 – Do I have to eat? – Bucky asked, staring at Steve. Emotionless. 

 – You don't  _have to_ do anything, Buck. But this is important. How long have you been not eating? – Steve insisted. 

Bucky frowned. – I've eaten. – he didn't know exactly  _what_ , but he had stolen something from a strange truck, with one side opened and a giant "HOT DOG" written on the other. Bucky wasn't sure if those were real dogs, but a lot of people was eating those things, so did he. Well, taste and smell weren't important. He just needed to feed. Not because he wanted to, of course. 

 – How many days ago? –

Bucky scowled. – Two days ago. –

 – Jesus Christ, Bucky. Just go in the bathroom, have that shower and then come with me in the kitchen. You need to eat. Do you like noodles? – Bucky wasn't so sure, but there was something strange in Steve's voice. Anger. But it wasn't the right word.  _Not anger, then what is it?_ , he found asking himself. 

 – Why are you so angry about it? –

 – Angry? I'm not angry at nothing. I'm just concerned about you. It's just.. Look, I'm really this far from going out there and find who did this to you and just..  _erase_ him from this world. And I'm afraid it won't settle down. On the contrary, I think it'll get worse. –

Concern. That's what it was.  _Concern_ _._ Bucky forced himself to follow the speech. He wasn't sure why this side of Steve made him awkward, but still that was what he felt. 

 – Why. – it wasn't quite a question, but who cared. He didn't need vocal inflection. 

 – Why..? – Steve seemed bewildered. – I knew you, okay?, right.. Before all this mess happened. I think I can say I knew you better than anybody. And.. I'm just looking at you and seeing everything they took away from you. And I can't really handle it. I just.. – Steve's voice died on his lips. Bucky couldn't hear nothing more than a sigh. A bitter one. Then Steve turned away, giving Bucky his back. 

Bucky was confused. Again. It wasn't a big deal. He knew they did something to him to make him just this way, but he couldn't remember anything. He just hadn't anything to miss. And that was going to fade too, because when he's been with Steve, on the helicarrier, flashes had come back to his mind. Flashes that now he couldn't quite remember for some strange reason. But Steve felt like nostalgia. Even if he didn't know for what. He just felt nostalgic. 

Bucky stayed silent. He just stood up there, three steps away. He didn't understand what was happening, but -suddenly- he had this uncomfortable pulse to reach out for him and put a hand on his shoulder.  _What the hell.. No._

 – I'm sorry. Just.. Go to the bathroom, okay? If you need anything, ask away. Just give me a second. – Steve didn't turn back to him. On the contrary, he went right to the kitchen, disappearing in the room. 

Bucky stayed still for about half a minute, before he walked away, looking for the bathroom. He studied already the planimetry of Steve's house, just to kill Fury, but this was the first time he physically entered in the building. So it took just a little bit more to find the bath. 

 

[...]

 

Steve stilled. He was in the kitchen when Bucky moved his steps in the house. In  _his_ house. Right where there were the signs of Fury’s assassination. Well.. “Assassination”, of course. He heard Bucky closing warily and he went mute for at least five-ten minutes. Only when the sound of water pouring down came from the other room he moved. Fast, he grabbed the telephone and unlocked the screen, opening Sam’s chat. It was when he started writing the first word that he stilled completely.

_ I found him. _

He found him and then  what? What good could it bring Sam acknowledged of this fact? But still, in the end, it was Sam he was talking about. The same Sam that offered to help out, even if Steve didn’t really want to involve in. Steve grimaced and sighed in exasperation.

He sent the message.

 

_ I found him.  
_ (08.57PM - 09.02PM seen)

_ Where? You okay?  
_ (09.03PM)

_ Don’t tell anyone, Sam, please.  
_ (09.03PM - 09.03PM seen)

_ Uhm, what. Are you crazy? Why? U sure u okay?  
_ (09.04PM)

_ Yeah, just don’t. He’s not going to hurt anyone. I can handle this. Please, I can make him see reasons.  
_ (09.05PM - 09.07PM seen)

_ I don’t know, Cap. I don’t trust him  
_ (09.09PM)

_ He saved me, Sam. He saved me from drowning. I wanted to tell you because it seemed fair, but I’m not going to betray his trust.  
_ (9.09PM - 9.10PM seen)

_ Okay. Okay, just.. Be careful, okay? I won’t tell anyone.  
_ (09.11PM)

_ Thanks, Sam. You don’t know how much it means to me.  
_ (09.12PM - 09.15PM seen)

 

Sam didn’t reply. Maybe he was really chilling on his couch, watching some tv or having dinner, so Steve let the telephone slide in his pocket, turning back to the fridge and stalking right in front of it. Once opened, he warily chose some macaroni and cheese precooked. He opened the package and the microwave, placing the macaroni inside it, closing the rest. He sighed, slowly, walking outside the kitchen, reaching for the bathroom door. He stood a few meters away from the bathroom, listening to the water pouring down. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining what Bucky looked like, in that right moment. Was he aware? Was he standing still inside the shower? Or he didn’t even entered yet? Was he staring at the wall, his feet or his metal arm..?

Bucky seemed lost -lost and confused- when he knocked the front door. And Steve didn’t really know what to do to make him feel a little bit comfortable. Actually, Steve felt awkward in the end. Physically sick and mentally uncomfortable. He didn’t really know what to feel. Happy? Threatened? Anxious? All those emotions just started to rolling chaotically in his mind -in his  chest \- and he didn’t quite know what to do. It was just like the first time he met Bucky. The first time he  _recognized_  him, behind that mask. He remembered a sudden whole inside his heart, the ground that wasn’t anymore under his feet. He wouldn’t move, even when Bucky pointed him with the gun. He just couldn’t move. Only the strong noise caused by Natasha and the grenades launcher broke that stillness and, as soon as he could realize, Bucky was gone. Disappeared. Just like the name he owned in those years, like a ghost.

He slowly sighed, bending his head and ruffling his hair with his right hand when the shower shutted down, leaving everything in silence. He faced again the door before turning back and moving right back into the kitchen. He took a seat and started staring outside the window, waiting for Bucky to come back. 

 

[...]

 

Bucky was naked. He was staring at the floor beneath him. The bathroom was damp, the mirror was steamy, so he couldn’t reflect himself. He stared at the mirror for a handful moments, even if he couldn’t see right through the condensation. His hair was wet, falling alongside his face, partially covering it. He could feel all the drops falling from his strands. Eventually, he cleaned himself. It was a strange sensation, to feel clean and warm. Mostly warm, than clean. It felt almost wrong, to be able to sense the cold. It was such a distant feeling that he grimaced, glaring at his right arm. The left one just sensed pressure, heat or cold was useless. Also pain. He knew it was a complicate tool, but no one ever told him what he should do with it. He just knew some movements that would reset or try to reset the system or the connections if it stopped working -just like what happened with the Black Widow and her taser disks.

He looked at the towel and grabbed it, starting brushing himself off with it, drying his skin. Then, he turned himself, facing his clothes spreaded all over the place and approached them, kneeling before them. He checked for his equipment. Now he was able to smell his clothes. They stinked. He didn’t grimace, that was not something he was accustomed to. Bad smelling was never a problem. So he just decided to hide again his weapons inside his clothes. He would’ve needed some new, but he didn’t have anything else. So..

Steve face came to his mind, making him still for a moment. He frowned. Why was he thinking that  _maybe_ Steve’d have had something for him? His eyes closed a little bit, a thin line through he stared at his clothes. He stood up again, putting a hand through his hair, sighing. He was uncertain. And that was also something he wasn’t used to. He didn’t need to be uncertain. They never let him.

He started brushing his hair with the towel, drying also his hair a little. He was slow, even in his movements. He never had a chance to wash himself like this, back in the HYDRA headquarters. This - _all of this_ \- was new, unknown. Foreign. When he was finished, he opened the door and, without even looking back, he exited the bathroom and walked right through the apartment. The place wasn’t that huge, but it had something warm in how it was designed that Bucky couldn’t understand. It was different from the sensation he’d always felt inside headquarters. The light, the furniture. It was a home. A place to live in. Not some cold, detached laboratory room, full of metal and yellow lights. Bucky almost felt wrong. He wasn’t used to this environment and he knew it. He wasn’t able to recognize this as something natural.  _Natural_  was HYDRA,  _natural_  was a cryostasis machine, the cold, the flashing pain his brain washing machine always gave him, the silence, the echoes of footsteps in the corridors, the metal grills. This.. Well, this was another story. A reality he always watched from a distance, from the gunsight. He never asked himself why the world lived like this and he didn’t, he never wondered why, it was just like this, so he never bothered asking. He wasn’t supposed to ask in the first place -they made it really,  _really_  clear. 

Steve was inside the kitchen, sitting on one of the chairs, giving his back to Bucky. Bucky went still, outside the kitchen door. Steve didn’t even realize he was there. He was looking down, at the ground. Bucky could almost hear him sighing.

Steven Rogers. A curious human being who made Bucky’s head  _literally_  explode. Bucky wasn’t sure why and how, but it happened. And now Steve was like a familiar sensation. Just the thought of his name brought Bucky something painful, but not physically painful. It was a different kind of pain which he never experienced. As he was staring at something he once had and suddenly he knew for sure he would’ve had anymore, but still he wish he could’ve had it again.

_ Nostalgia. _

Another word he never learned, but in some kind of way he knew. Another anomaly in the system of his. He grimaced, before his face went limp again.

 – I’m done. – he said, breaking the silence.

Steve jolted and then faced him, his eyes flew wide open and he suddenly turned back at the window. – Jeez, put some clothes on..! – he stuttered.

 – I have none. – Bucky answered, his voice steady.

 – Gosh, okay, ‘m sorry, my fault. – he saw Steve standing up and trying not to look at him.

Bucky frowned. – Why are you acting like this. – the second question that he couldn’t make sound as a real question.

Steve looked at him, right in the eyes, a little grimace on his face. – It’s nothing, Buck. You’re just.. naked. – 

Bucky frowned again. That was something he didn’t understand. – What’s wrong with that? – 

 – What do you mean, you just can’t walk around like that. –

 – What do you want me to do, then? – 

Steve scowled, like he wasn’t sure about something. Then he sighed. – I don’t want you to do anything, Buck. You can act normal here, there’s no one you have to obey to, okay? – 

 – I’m acting normal. – 

Steve eyebrows knit together. – What do you mean..? – 

 – When I had to clean up. After a mission. – Bucky started, his voice even. It didn’t even occur him what he was talking about. That was just the routine. But then, there was something strange in that memory, again. He didn’t want to talk about something like that. Not in front of Steve. He didn’t know  _why_ , but he didn’t want to.

 – Buck..? – Steve interrupted his thoughts.

Bucky lift his head up, looking at Steve, flickering his eyelashes. – Nothing. I just.. need some clothes. – and he lowered his head, staring again at his body. Now he felt awkward. That wasn’t normal. Being naked like this, like it didn’t matter. He didn’t know how he knew that, but from Steve reactions it was clearly assumable. 

Steve didn’t reply immediately, he kept looking at Bucky, instead. It was right when Bucky was about to open his mouth that the man moved away. – Okay, follow me. – he stated.

Bucky hesitated just one moment before obeying that simple order. Because  _that_  was an order. It was so much easier to follow Steve just because Steve asked him to, even if he tried to fight his own tendency. There was another point: Steve was not the enemy. Or -at least- that’s what it seemed to Bucky. What he was always trying to understand about his no-more-target.

 – Here. – Steve stopped inside a bedroom.  _No_ , that was  _Steve’s_  bedroom, Bucky realized.

Bucky stalked in warily, looking around as an animal in a foreign territory, forced to focus his attention on Steve’s movements.

Steve opened the wardrobe and then he stepped aside, pointing the inside with his right hand.

 – I don’t know if they’ll fit, but the fact that I’m still bigger than you should make it easier. – he said, a faint smile on his face.

Bucky glared at Steve, unsure. It all looked like he shouldn’t trust that guy. From what he learned, at least. His instinct was clear: do not trust him. His sensations were almost as confusing as his instincts. He felt awkwardly safe -he didn’t know why, but he did- and that was one of the most unbelievable thoughts that he could ever have.

He faced the wardrobe though, quietly. Inside there were a lot of hoodies and sweatpants. Bucky looked at Steve, scowling, and Steve was just quietly waiting. So Bucky faced again the wardrobe and hesitated, before making his decision and reaching for one of the hoodies -a dark blue one- and a pair of sweatpants, light grey.

 – There. – he heard Steve saying. Turning his head, he saw that the man already moved a few steps away, looking inside a chest of drawers full of boxers and socks. – Do you wanna also a tank top..? Oh, whatever, just put on what you like. – 

_ What you like _ , another foreign concept to Bucky’s mind. He stayed silent, the clothes hanging from his hands. He waited for Steve to approach him again and stilled when the man dropped on his hands a pair of socks, boxers and the tank top he was talking about.

Bucky didn’t say nothing. On the contrary, he looked back at Steve and then he moved to place some of the clothes on the bed, leaving only the boxers.

 – Oh, yeah, sorry. – Steve said, interrupting Bucky’s movements. His gaze followed Steve until he exited from the room, closing the door. – I’m in the kitchen, alright? Gonna heat up the macaroni. – and then, silence. At least, that was what Bucky thought before he heard footsteps again. – Oh, do you know macaroni? They’re good, I think you’ve never eat something like that, but there’s cheese. –

Bucky frowned, the boxers still in his hands. – I don’t mind. – he forced himself replying, before coming back to dressing up.

 – Oh, okay, then I’ll wait in the kitchen. Yeah.. – and then he heard Steve walking away  _again_.

 

 

It didn’t take long to dress up and go back to the kitchen. It was, on the other hand, awkward.  _So_ uncomfortable, acting like he was a normal person. Like that. When he entered the kitchen, Steve realized also that his hair was damp with the umpteenth jolt. The macaroni where already hot, so they -well, more Steve than Bucky- decided to eat. Macaroni and cheese tasted strange. He didn’t even know that food could have been so tasteful and Steve didn’t ever stop watching him as he was studying every Bucky’s movement. He also asked Bucky two, three times if they were good. Eventually, Bucky shrugged without even replying. The important was to feed and be in strenght. So Bucky didn’t ever complain. Not one time. It looked like Bucky’s silence affected also Steve, because Steve just stopped talking for the rest of the dinner just to start again because he wanted to dry Bucky’s hair.

 – Do you wanna cut it? – Steve asked, once the two were together in the bathroom. He’d grabbed the hair dryer and now he was pointing that thing right at Bucky’s nape. It looked just like a gun, the shape at least, but its barrel was far too much large to be able to shoot everything. So Bucky repressed his instinct to avoid his aim, but he couldn’t stop looking at that thing in a suspicious way.

 – Buck..? – Steve called again and Bucky just raised his head, focusing on Steve’s face. He didn’t say a thing, as always. He just waited for the other to say whatever he was going to say. – Do you want to cut them? – 

Bucky stared at Steve and then lowered his gaze. His hair was a little bit longer than what he was used to, but it didn’t quite bother him. He thought, instead, he liked it. Those locks covered most of his face, when they were dry. It was sort of better that way, so Bucky simply shaked his head in denial.

 – Okay. – Steve pressed one of the buttons on the hair dryer and Bucky froze when the sudden noise came out of the  _thing_. Steve noticed and stopped. – You okay? – he asked, looking right at Bucky through the mirror.

Bucky didn’t even catch his gaze, lowering his eyes before Steve could watch him. Steve sighed and turned off the hair dryer. Bucky held his breath but didn’t move. On the contrary, he closed his eyes. That had been a stupid reaction but he could not avoid it.

 – Do you wanna do it? – Steve gently asked, his voice was thin, low.

Bucky didn’t say a word. Steve sighed again, patient.

 – You’ve never wanted to dry your hair by yourself. – Steve’s word made Bucky open his eyes and seeking for him, a confusion look on his face. Steve was giving him his profile, his eyes were lost on his hands holding the hair dryer. – Y’know, when we were in our century, before the War and all the Captain America thing. – Steve smiled, faint, weak. Bucky forced himself to turn around and face Steve, a little impulse of curiosity moved inside him. – We couldn’t afford a barber, so we used to cut our hair together. And you always wanted me to dry your hair, even if that was the easy part. – he continued. – I’m not trying to say nothing, huh, but I think that you’re not changed. Not in these little details, at least. – and then, the smile just emphatized on Steve’s face. – Well, that’s a good thing, I assume. It means they didn’t quite succeed, doesn’t it? – 

Bucky kept the silence since Steve turned back on the hair dryer, pointing it again against his hair and they all flew on Bucky’s face, covering it. He stilled, too focused on the noise and on what Steve was doing to consider anything that wasn’t the other man. Again, the warm sensation the hair dryer gave him was something awkward, unusual. He wasn’t  _used_  to it. So he took the time also to analyze that. It was strange, almost burning sometimes, but he didn’t ever complain about that. He kept his eyes focused and still.

They kept going for a bunch of minutes -maybe ten, twenty minutes of Steve throwing his locks in confusion. Bucky just didn’t mind that, he discovered with an hesitant thought. Steve was careful. At least, that was how it should’ve been called, Bucky hoped. Careful.

Bucky wasn’t sure  _how_  all of this happened. Nay, he knew how it ended up like this, but he didn’t understand why Steve was able to act like this. Didn’t he knew that Bucky could’ve tried to kill him also there? In that specific moment? They weren’t armed and Steve hadn’t with him his shield. Bucky could’ve been in the lead. He could’ve done it. And still, Steve didn’t even try to make sure that Bucky couldn’t. He didn’t even  _check out_  for weapons in his clothes -because they were in the same position Bucky left them, on the bathroom floor.

 – How was.. – 

Steve slowed down, turning down the power, looking right back at Bucky.

 – What? – 

Bucky, lips half-closed, took a deep breath, avoiding Steve’s eyes.

 – How was I? – he managed to ask, after a handful seconds.

He heard nothing from Steve. Not immediately.

 – You were smaller. – at those words, Bucky straightened his head and frowned, staring at Steve. Unless he heard a little laugh coming from the man. He relaxed a bit. – You were always after me, trying to avoid me being hitten by a lot of punks. –

Bucky eyebrows knit even more.

 – I wasn’t like this, back in those days. – Steve explained. – I was really small and weak, I collected a lot of “fights”. And for fights I mean, basically, me being punched a lot. – 

_ Stubborn. _   


 – Eventually, you’d have come and beat the shit out of them. – Steve laughed. – And I wouldn’t ever admit that I was losing the fight. – with the corner of his eye he saw Steve shaking his head, the same faint smile on his face. And still, he didn’t seem happy. Not completely.

 – Did they forced you to do it? – Bucky asked without even thinking.

 – What? – Steve seemed confused, before he realized something. – You mean, this? – and he pointed himself with the hair dryer. – No, I volunteered. It was the only way to be in the army, so I accepted it. – 

Bucky frowned.

 – You were away, I wanted to reach you and fight with you on the frontline, so I did what I could. – Steve shrugged, absently. – And now here I am. – 

 – I read the files. Frozen in the Arctic Ocean for over 70 years. – 

 – Yeah, that’s another story. – 

 – That story was a cause of shame in HYDRA. – 

 – Is this what they told you? Well, yeah, we’ve made a huge fools of them, but you’re not on that side, Buck. Everything they taught you, it’s not true. Or at least, it is, but you would’ve been happy to see them defeated. – Steve did not seem tranquil. He just looked at Bucky with apprehension.

Bucky took a deep breath, trying to hide it. Steve noticed, but Bucky wouldn’t even look at him through the glass, so Steve just stepped away and put the hair dryer where it should’ve been. Bucky’s gaze fell on his own clothes, scattered along the floor. He hold back that urgent push of fear and didn’t move. His senses were screaming in his mind.  _Get up. Take the gun before he notices. If he’s not hostile he won’t mind._

 – Buck? – Steve’s voice came in like a shot, freezing Bucky’s thoughts. – Can I take them? –

Bucky followed Steve’s finger. He was pointing at his clothes. Only then Bucky got up as a flash without even speaking a word. He took his clothes and jumped back, putting a distance between himself and Steve.

 – Okay.. – Steve said, quietly. He already put his hands up, pointing at the roof, but he seemed as he was forcing himself still and relaxed.

Bucky rummaged until he found what he was looking for. His gun, a grenade -useless without his grenade launcher- and his two knives. – Now you can. – he murmured, placing his knives in his two different pockets, the right one also with the grenade, while he held the gun with his right hand and sticked out the left one with his clothes and offered them to Steve.

The man took Bucky’s uniform with a nod and then he swallowed. – I know this is useless, but.. you know you don’t have to use that, right? Not when I’m around. I won’t hurt you. – 

Hearing Steve saying those words didn’t quite help Bucky, but it was also a different way of trying to convince himself of that reality. It helped, in a certain kind of way, but the Winter Soldier didn’t really want to give up. So he just stayed silent, but he put the Desert Eagle in the central pocket of the hoodie he was wearing; then he looked right at Steve.

Steve sighed and nodded again. – Okay, I’m doing the laundry then. – and he walked away murmuring something like: –  _ excuse me.  _ – low, like a whisper.

Bucky wasn’t sure what he heard, frowning, he just stared at Steve’s back, following him after a few seconds. – Where are you going? – he asked, when Steve opened the front door.

Steve just stopped and walk back. Two steps, Bucky counted. – I’m going to the laundry, my washer machine isn’t here. – 

 –  _Where_ – Bucky repeated.

Steve frowned and then shrugged. – Downstairs, in the basement. – he answered precisely.

Bucky did some calculation and, after a few seconds he was staring at Steve again. – Ten minutes. If you don’t come back in ten minutes I’ll – 

 – You’ll what? You’ll go away? Find another place? _Where?_ What if I meet the neighbour? What if the washer machine doesn’t work? I don’t know what kind of clothes these are, but I’m pretty sure that kevlar isn’t quite  that washable. – Steve interrupted. – And I’m not going to do anything down there, just  _your_ clothes. I’m doing this for you, before all. – 

Bucky held his breath for a second. He wasn’t sure what  _that_ was, but he wasn’t so happy to hear Steve’s answer. Not like that. It felt wrong to ask those ten minutes to Steve, but he couldn’t help himself.

He heard Steve sighing.

 – Okay, listen. – a pause. – Let’s do like this: I’m going downstairs now, alright? If something happens, I’ll be back in ten minutes and tell you, even if it’s the neighbour. – Steve seemed tired. Really tired. – Is that okay with you? – 

Bucky’s shoulders tensed. His breath died again in his lungs, before coming back, short, uncontrollable. Choices. Freedom of choices again. Steve was even  _asking_ for it.

 – I.. Yes. -Yes. – Bucky wasn’t so sure why he hesitated like that, but that was it. His eyes met Steve’s. He was angry _again_ –no, not angry.  _Concerned._  He should have looked for that word, one of these times. Did Steve have a dictionary? Bucky had an idea. A  _wrong_  idea. It was wrong, he knew, but he didn’t care. As soon as Steve walked out the room, closing the door behind his back, Bucky quickly jumped on his feet, hastening his movements. He started from the bedroom. He checked for hidden cameras or microphones. Then he went to the living room. Nothing, except for a couple of hidden cameras already dead and useless. He frowned, looking around and checking basically everything. He already knew what kind of places they could have used, in the following day he could’ve done a deeper research. Steve’s house was, at least, actually safe. Bucky was relieved of that. He wasn’t sure about the whole thing, but at least Steve wasn’t try to hide nothing from him. He stopped right in front of the library. It was a huge light-wooden library. Boxes notched into the wood held almost thirty slim books. He absently read some titles. War. War war war war. Strategy, history, self-confidence, leading skills.

_ No wonder why people follow him. _

He took one of the books.  _The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich: A History of Nazi Germany_ _._ Bucky frowned. He peeked between the pages. That book looked old and creased, full of.. other pencil-written words. He opened widely, slowly, curious and at the same time hesitant. He swallowed when he read some of the words that -Steve?- had circled. Notes, question marks, exclamation points and a lot of arrows, underlines. He kept flipping through the pages, slowly, reading as much as possible. Until he reached the middle chapters. He start reading HYDRA’s name even more as he continued flipping. And then, he reached the point where the pages were interrupted by something. Another page. It was a handwritten page, a picture in black and white attached to it with duct tape, the frames kept the face of a young man, short and dark hair with a quiet expression on his face, the ghost of a smile on his mouth. His right hand got close to the frames and then it teared off the photograph with a single pull, detaching it from the paper; then, it inched closer the picture to his face, glaring at the young man. It reminded something awfully familiar, so Bucky focused on what was written on the page.

_ (Sergeant) James Buchanan Barnes, 1916 - 1945.  
_ _ You forgot about Sergeant Barnes, son of _

The page was completely scrawly. Full of sentences that Bucky couldn’t read except for a handful random letters, spread here and there. He swallowed. He stopped breathing just a moment after reading the two sentence. He swallowed again, trying to catch his breath. His eyelashes flickered one, two, three times and didn’t want to stop. The picture fell of the book when he jolted, hearing the door opening.

Steve walked in. Bucky rapidly closed the book, but not fast enough.

 – What’s th.. – Steve’s voice died right on top of his lips, when he realized  _something_  in his mind.

Bucky put back the book right where he found it without saying a word. He evaded Steve’s gaze and stayed silent. He felt awkward. Awkward and helpless. And the worst thing was that he didn’t even know  _why_.

 – You forgot something. – Steve whispered.

Bucky looked down and followed Steve’s gaze, until he reached the picture. Bucky murmured something that he, too, didn’t understand. He kneeled and stretched out his arm. He was about to pick up the picture when he heard Steve’s footsteps forwarding.

 – Is everything okay? – Steve asked,  _concerned._

Bucky looked back at him. He withheld his breath and then nodded. 

 – It’s.. Look, I.. – Steve stuttered and then he just stopped talking, sighing.

Bucky remained silent. – How many do you have. – again, it wasn’t a proper question, but Steve didn’t seem to be bothered by it. On the contrary, he understood far too easily.

Steve shrugged. – Twelve. – he answered, evading Bucky’s gaze. His eyes was focused on the book lying inside the hollow wooden box. – Maybe eighteen now. – numbers. Accurate ones.

 – Why. – 

Steve panted a laughter. –  _Why?_  – he seemed bewildered. – I don’t think you understand how much you mean to me, Bucky. – he kept going.

 – No, I think I do. – Bucky interrupted. In the end, Steve almost died to let him remember. A flash, but it was something that stopped Bucky. And sometimes he’s found himself wondering,  _knowing_  there was something he should’ve remembered, but nothing coming to his mind. It was frustrating. So frustrating.

 – Then why do you ask? – Steve’s voice was thin as a glass.

 – I.. – Bucky took a deep breath. He lowered his gaze, grimaced. – I want to remember. – he exhaled.

Steve stood up in silence, his face twisted in a faint _surprise_. Then, he exhaled a deep breath, incredulous. His eyes flickered over and over again, before Bucky could hear something even similar to a word. – Really? – surprise in his voice. Bucky wasn’t sure about that, but he was quite sure  surprise  was the right word.

Then, he remembered Steve was looking at him, a question mark clearly painted on his face.

 – Yeah. – he managed to reply. – Yeah.. –

 – O-okay. Hey, everything’s okay, right? – Steve asked again. – I mean, I don’t know how these things work, ‘m not a psychologist, but I’ve done some research, it’s fixable. At least, you can fix whatever you want. –

It didn’t seem quite right, Bucky was unsure. Of all things he was feeling right now, fixable wasn’t one of them. Helpless, hopeless, probably. There was sorrow and frustration. But not the self-confidence. He wasn't confident. So he stayed silent. Because he didn’t really know what to answer to Steve. Even if he’d nodded, it would’ve been seemed as Bucky was deceiving Steve. And Bucky didn’t learn how to lie about this. Not about himself. Every report needed to be accurate from the emotional and physical point of view. They always made sure he didn’t feel anything. They always made sure he wasn’t injured.

 – Listen, just.. let’s go to sleep, mh? – Steve’s voice interrupted Bucky’s thought, again.

Bucky lifted his head and met Steve’s eyes. – Yeah. – he said weakly.

 – Then, come with me, I don’t have another bed, but you can use mine. – as soon as Steve started walking, pointing at his own room.

 – Where will you sleep then. – Bucky interrupted, he didn’t even move.

Steve stopped and turned back to Bucky, looking at him. – There’s the couch, I already used the couch, so it’s fine. –

Bucky frowned and then looked at the couch, a dark blue one, spacious but probably not enough to contain Steve’s body size. – I can use the couch. – he declared out of the blue.

Steve’s answer was immediate. – No, this isn’t negotiable. Whatever you want, but not this. –

_ Stubborn. _

Bucky didn’t want to argue, not at least for something like this. – I can use the couch. – he repeated, instead.

 – I know you can, but I don’t want to. You need a bed, a  _real_ bed. – Steve insisted and Bucky felt uncomfortable again. He didn’t even know what a bed looked like. He didn’t even know how to  _use_  a bed. What he should do, how everything worked.

 – Alright. Alright. – he exhaled eventually, taking a deep, heavy breath. His gaze was still evading Steve’s, but he didn’t even know how to explain himself without looking desperate and helpless as he was feeling a few minutes before.

Steve’s face softened. – Come on, follow me. –

Bucky stalked right after him. The silence was steady between them, as fundamental element. He stopped right after he passed the bedroom door, looking straight at the bed. He wasn’t still quite sure, but what else could he do, exactly?

 – There. If you want to change, or anything. Take all you want.. need. Whatever. – Steve shrugged and sighed, his hand lifted behind his head, rubbing his hair.

Bucky got a little bit closer, slowly, looking the bed and weakly frowned, indecision on his face.

 – If you need anything – Steve started, hesitating, already near to the door. – Well, I’m here. –

Bucky stared at him, his face was blank. He just nodded in response.

And Steve nodded back at him, a faint smile on his face. – Good night, pal. – and then he closed the door right behind his back, leaving Bucky alone with his own thoughts, staring down at the bed again, as it was a mortal enemy.

In a sense, it  _was_. A mere object. Bucky stilled, looking down at the bed, incapable of doing something. He wasn’t even sure what  _sleep_  was like. Everything he could remember was a cold and painful cage. The cryostasis was always the answer to his “sleep”. They said it was necessary. He heard them saying it was  vital  to keep him that way. Bucky’s breath was even. He didn’t know what to do, but he could try to do something.  _Anything_ that could allow him to get some rest. So he stood up on the bed, in the middle of it, looking around. He considered the window’s and door’s positions, he should’ve be able to control both his sides, so he chose to sit down in the middle of the bed, the back facing the wall and using it to lie against it. He pull out the two pillows from the sheets and he gathered them under his arms. He kept a moment to relax -at least a little bit. He watched the room, painted in a gray light-blue, the dark brown wooden night table, the white curtains that framed the window; again, the white wardrobe, all closed. Then, the dark wenge parquet -as dark as the night table. A yellowish light came out from the window, painting geometric shapes partially on the bed, partially on the floor, disappearing beyond the bed edges. Bucky was able to hear only his own breath, steady.

He focused on that, counting every breath. It was a stratagemma to empty his mind. It worked most of the time. It worked also this time, until he fell asleep.

_One_ \- breath in.

_Two_ -  breath out.

_One_ \-   breath in.

_Two_ -  breath out.

 

[...]

 

Steve was used to hear the night noise of Brooklyn. It was so normal that he didn’t wake up in a rush everytime he heard an ambulance or a clacson, not anymore. That new environment was unusual, yes, but it was the most familiar thing he had left in seventy years. He used the couch as alternative bed, it wasn’t the first time this happened -but this was the first time he used it like this on purpose. He kept one of the plaid blanket like that.

He was used to the city noises, almost. He was always in a sort of vigilant sleep. He was used to almost everything. Almost, indeed.

Until a hoarse scream broke the silence.

Steve jolted upright, the plaid blanket hindering his movements. Bucky was screaming at times, the sounds were muffled by the closed door, but it was clear whom they were from. Steve pranced to the door, opening it with a shove of the shoulder.

 – Bucky?! – he called out in a rush, before his eyes could met Bucky’s body.

He was nestled on Steve’s bed, his arms wrapped around the two pillows, tightening them against his chest; his feet almost touching the bed headboard, while his head was in the center of the mattress. Upsidedown. That was definitely  _not_ how a normal person slept. But Steve gave it a really poor attention. He was too rushed by Bucky’s movements -splitted, mechanic, uncoordinated- and the muffled noise he shouted.

 – No. N-no! – he could clearly hear from Bucky’s voice.

Steve moved before even thinking. He approached the bed and reached out a hand to touch Bucky’s shoulder.

 – Bucky, Bucky wake up. – he started saying, slowly, trying not to scare the man more than he was already. – It’s a dream, it’s only a dream. Wake up. – he kept going, trying to maintain his voice secure and even. – You’re safe. It’s safe her – 

 – STOP IT – Bucky interrupted everything: the shaking, the noises, everything -he just jerk his whole body, the metal arm reacting before Steve could see. Bucky grabbed his wrist and he twisted it, making Steve’s arm aching and tearing Steve’s voice in a groan.

 – Bucky! It’s me! – Steve shouted, pandering to Bucky’s movements.

Bucky froze, but didn’t let go, metal fingers pressing against Steve’s wrist and causing piercing flashes of pain. – It’s me. Steve. You’re safe, you’re safe.. Oh shit, let go my wrist, you’re going to break it. Bucky..? Let go my wrist, please. It’s Steve. You came to me, do you remember? – he kept saying, ignoring the pain, with a poor result.

Bucky eased the grip all of sudden, his eyes wide open. Steve pulled back his arm, the other hand passing on his wrist, massaging it. He took a second to look at it, move it a little bit and then lifting his head back to Bucky. The man had withdrawn in the meantime, looking at Steve through long, dark locks of hair.

 – You said it was fixable.. You.. – Bucky panted weakly, accusation in his voice. – THIS IS NOT FIXABLE. – a shout. Desperate. – It  _isn’t_. – Bucky muttered faintly, panting. 

It took a moment to Steve to understand what Bucky was referring to. Then he lifted his head, meeting Bucky’s diffident gaze.

 – Bucky, you’re not well. – it was a reality he wasn’t sure he should’ve shared with his friend. But he didn’t know what else to say, or think, at the moment. – You need to see someone. – 

Bucky frowned, but remained silent.

 – You got me? You  _need_  someone more competent than me. – 

 – I DON’T. – Bucky shouted again, his right hand holding the Desert Eagle from the central pocket.

Steve jerked a bit on his knees, his back withdraw as a reaction to a lot of impulses. Self-defence impulses.

 – Okay, okay. – he opted, his hands rushed up, as the gun was pointing at him. – It’s okay, Buck. It’s fine. – 

Bucky grimaced a little, his body was shaking, even if he tried to hide it. But Steve was good at noticing these kind of things. Moreover if Bucky’s.

 – But you are  still _not_ well. – he insisted, stubborn, frowning. – At least let  _me_  help you, would you? – he pointed the gun with a little movement of his chin, his eyes pointing in the same way. – Put the gun down, you don’t need that. – he lifted his gaze on Bucky.

It was a familiar sensation, that look on him. It brought with itself some of the horror Steve saw in Bucky’s eyes on the helicarrier. Then, Bucky looked down at his own arm, taking a deep breath. He put the gun down, but didn’t put it away.

 – Listen to me, alright?, it’s safe. It was just a nightmare. – he continued maintaining his voice even, secure. And maybe it worked, because Bucky took another deep breath and nodded, shaked less.

 – Easy. – Steve murmured. – Easy. It’s okay. – while lowering his hands until they touched the bed edge, lying on it.

Bucky grimaced.

 – Not a nightmare. – he exhaled, weakly.

And Steve tensed, holding his breath without even thinking about it. He just focused -too much- on Bucky, losing his eyes in that lost gaze. Because Bucky wasn’t looking at him. He was lost, somewhere in the shadows of the room.

_ Not a nightmare _ , what could it have been, then?

Steve was afraid he knew. And still, he managed to ask. – Why didn’t you tell me? – squinting his eyes.

 – Didn’t know. Not always like this. Sometimes yes. Some.. not. – Bucky’s way of talking scared Steve. Not that much to let that his reaction could affect his facial expression. But still, Steve was worried and that would’ve not changed so easily.

 – Okay.. Okay. What did you do in this case? – Steve’s voice was careful. He didn’t know how stable was Bucky’s mind in this moment. So he went with what he could go with. Calm and self-confidence. That kind of voice soldiers needed before a battle. Steve learned “how to use it”, eventually. He’d discovered a lot of books about leadership and the art of inspiring other people.

Bucky shrugged, grimacing. – Wait. – 

 – For.. – 

 – To stop. – 

Steve paused and took a deep breath. – Alright. – he breathed. – Do I help here? Can I wait with you? Or you want me to go away..? – Steve hesitated in the end. He didn’t want to leave, but he did understand that something like this required time.

Bucky nodded, then shaked his head violently. – Don’t. –

Steve took another breath, patient. – Don’t  _what_ , Bucky? Come on, make an effort. Just another word so I can do whatever can make this better. – 

Bucky stilled, silent and Steve didn’t hear a thing for minutes. By then, he was resigned to the idea to deal with that helpless Bucky all night long. Except that Bucky moved, dropping his gun near his chest and nestling again on the pillows.

 – Not far. – he heard Bucky saying.

And Steve sighed, looking at his friend. Bucky was tired. He could see it.

 – Is the couch okay? Do I leave the door open? – he hated that his voice made Bucky flinch a little. Then, his big blue eyes were already meeting Steve’s. And then, Bucky nodded, weakly, grabbing the two pillows and hiding his face between them.

Steve stood up slowly, just not to scare Bucky even more.

 – Alright. – he said. – I’m there. Call me everytime you need me, okay? – he murmured, not even sure that Bucky could hear him. Eventually, an answer did not come and Steve, silent, returned to his couch, lying down on it.

It was difficult to sleep again, but he managed to. He didn’t even remember how.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaand here we are!  
> Thanks for reading!  
> I hope you've liked it and to see you again (in the comments or kudos or only the hits!)  
> Again, if you have time and you want to enlight some mistakes I'll be glad to correct them.  
> (probably the rating could be Explicit, but as soon as I don't have the chapter, I can't say :S sorry!)
> 
> Over and out,  
> yann <3


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